Gilbert spoke of that perilous illness of his in Egypt, the fever in
which he had been given over by every one, and only saved at last by the
exemplary care and devotion of his friend. John Saltram had a profound
objection to this thing being talked about, and tried immediately to
change the drift of the conversation; but to-night Gilbert was not to be
stopped.
"You refuse the help of my purse, Jack," he said, "and forget that I owe
you my life. I should never have been to the fore to navigate the good
ship Fenton and Co., if it hadn't been for your care. The doctor fellow
at Cairo told me as much in very plain terms. Yes, John, I consider
myself your debtor to the amount of a life."
"Saving a man's life is sometimes rather a doubtful boon. I think if I
had a fever, and some officious fool dragged me through it when I was in
a fair way to make a decent end, I should be very savagely disposed
towards him."
"Why, John Saltram, you are the last man in the world from whom I should
expect that dreary kind of talk. Yet I suppose it's only a natural
consequence of shutting yourself up in these rooms for ten days at a
stretch."
"What good use have I made of my life in the past, Gilbert?" demanded the
other bitterly; "and what have I to look forward to in the future? To
marry, and redeem my position by the aid of a woman's money.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127